


All Atoning Mine

by dietplainlite



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Prompt Fill, Rain, Reunion, The Force Ships It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-16
Updated: 2018-03-16
Packaged: 2019-04-01 00:57:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13987017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dietplainlite/pseuds/dietplainlite
Summary: “You asked me to give up everything, and I have. I’m here. What do I do?”She never thought he would, not for sure, and now he’s here and she’s more afraid of him than she ever has been.





	All Atoning Mine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kyriadamorte](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kyriadamorte/gifts).



> From a prompt fill on tumblr from doing-talking: earth between my toes.   
> Title from "Renascence" by Edna St. Vincent Millay

The soil on Hestria is dark and damp, somewhat spongy, and smells of minerals. It crumbles easily in her fingers and sifts softly to the ground. She looks around before taking off her shoes, sighs when her bare feet hit the earth, and hums as she walks up the garden row.

She does this on every new planet, or at least the ones where the soil isn’t dangerous to her bare skin. Having felt nothing but sand beneath her feet on the rare occasions when she could go barefoot on Jakku, Rey revels in the sensations of thick mud, sticky clay, soft loam, silt and dust. This soil, dampened from a recent rain, is perfect.

This opinion has definitely not been influenced by the half empty bottle of wine dangling from her hand. It tastes of apples, which are her current obsession. She has drank enough to warm her cheeks but not enough to turn her head.

It starts to rain again, and she looks up, letting the fat drops hit her face as she spins around. It’s been  years, and she still can’t get over the simple luxury of water falling from the sky. When she stops moving, the world spins lazily for a few more seconds, and the sound of the rain and wind falls away as her scalp begins to tingle.

“Hell,” she says, and turns around to see Ben Solo standing at the edge of the garden. She’s about to speak when the sky is torn in two and a tree on the far end of the field is ripped apart by lightning. Under the ringing in her ears, the sound of the rain comes back, but he doesn’t disappear. He also won’t meet her eyes.

“What?” she says.

“Your dress, it’s…well, it’s transparent.”

She looks down. The dress is a flimsy thing, anyway, long and shapeless, the color of a pale morning sky. Wet, it clings to her. She may as well be nude. She resists the urge to cover herself and stares at him, holding her arms straight against her sides, fists clenched.

“Why are you here, and how did you find me?”

He looks at her, then jerks his head down again. “Rey, this is ridiculous. Will you put on a coat?”

“I’m fine,” she says, teeth chattering.

“Don’t you think it would be a bit anticlimactic for the last Jedi to die of pneumonia?”

“I’m not a Jedi.” He still won’t look at her. “Oh, for…” she mutters and stalks to the back stoop, where she’d dropped her blanket. She throws it over her shoulders and turns around, half expecting him to have disappeared, but he’s followed her. She sits on the stoop, out of the rain. “You’re really here.”

“I am.”

She takes a swig of her wine and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand and considers him. The rigid layers of clothing are gone, though he’s still in black from head to toe, and he looks more hunted than haunted now. “Why are you here?” she asks.

“I thought—”

“You were supposed to run away, not bring whoever might be after you to my door.”

“You said I could come to you.”

“That was so long ago. I waited so long. I’ve always been waiting.”

“Then it’s too late? Is there someone else?”

She laughs at this, a full belly laugh. “You dick.”

“It’s a valid question.”

“Can you see yourself with anyone else, ever?”

“People settle.”

“Yeah, some people do. Get out of the rain or you’ll be the one with pneumonia.”

They sit, watching the storm draw closer. As it passes over the tiny house, the wind and lightning die down around them, leaving nothing but a gentle rain and a slate grey sky.

She looks over at him, at how intently he’s gazing at the clouds. Had he been hoping as hard as she, that the wind would spare her little garden? She offers him the wine bottle. He takes it, and after studying the label, takes a long drink. She finds herself staring at him, the size of his hand in comparison to the bottle, the way his lips wrap around it, and how shiny they are when he pulls the bottle away.

“It’s warm,” he says, making a face. “It’s better when it’s cold.”

“I don’t like cold drinks.”

“Really?”

“They hurt my teeth and give me a headache.”

He doesn’t have an answer for this, other than a twitch in his cheek that might be the closest thing he has to a smile. “Have you tried ice cream?”

“No. Why are we talking about food?”

“Because you don’t want to talk about the other thing.”

“What is there to talk about?”

“Dammit, Rey!” He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. When he speaks again, his voice is soft. “What else do you want from me?”

Rey stands up. “I never asked you for anything,” she says, going toward the door. He grabs her arm, not hard, but she stops. His hand wraps nearly around her forearm.

“You asked me to give up everything, and I have. I’m here. What do I do?”

She never thought he would, not for sure, and now he’s here and she’s more afraid of him than she ever has been.

No. She’s more afraid of who she is around him than she’s ever been.

“Please,” he whispers. “Let me stay. Just let me stay.”

She reaches and touches his hair, and his cheek. He leans into it, like the little potted plants in her window sill lean into the light, and her trembling stops. His arm goes around her waist and she folds over him as he sobs into her belly, one hand gripping her hip hard enough to leave a mark. She should make him leave. He’ll only bring trouble. He is trouble enough on his own. There’s no telling what smoldering wreckage he left in his wake on his way to her. There is little doubt that she could become another piece.

But he begs her again, and she puts her hand over his, and there is that glimpse, more a feeling than a vision, of what they can be together. Not moving planets or leading armies, but a singular calm, a place to rest, a place to simply be.

“Yes,” she says. “Please, Ben. Please stay.”

She takes his hand and guides him into the house, with her plants, and her gadgets, and her books. The rain and wind resume, but the door is shut, the shades drawn tight.


End file.
